The streetlights flickered on as the evening settled in, casting long, eerie shadows across the quiet neighborhood. Mikey walked in silence, his mind swirling with thoughts. The weight of his double life felt heavier than ever, and with every step, the divide between agent and teenager seemed to grow.
Just as his house came into view, a sharp sound broke through the stillness—footsteps. Mikey's instincts kicked in immediately. His heart raced as he casually glanced over his shoulder. A figure stood at the corner, their silhouette barely visible under the dim streetlight.
He quickened his pace, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up his spine. But the footsteps followed, matching his every move.
Mikey's training took over. Without a second thought, he veered into an alleyway, disappearing into the shadows. Pressing his back against the cold brick wall, he waited, his ears straining for any sound.
A second later, the figure appeared at the alley's entrance, scanning the area. Mikey held his breath, every muscle tensed as he prepared to move if necessary. His eyes darted to the edges of the alley, calculating his options. The figure stood there, unmoving, as if they knew exactly what Mikey had done, almost waiting for him to reveal himself.
Could this be related to the mission? Mikey wondered, his mind racing back to earlier events. He and Gregor had gathered critical intel on the group operating out of the warehouse. Had someone from that group tracked him down, or was this another threat entirely? The agent life, once exhilarating, was now beginning to suffocate him. There were no lines anymore—everything blurred into one dangerous game.
The figure finally moved, taking slow, deliberate steps into the alley. Mikey knew this was his moment. With the precision of his training, he shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, staying silent and unnoticed. His breathing slowed as he prepared to act.
But then, a voice broke the silence, one that sent a chill down Mikey's spine: "I know you're there. You're not as invisible as you think."
It was a woman's voice, calm but piercing. Mikey's heart raced faster. He remained hidden, but his mind was already running through potential identities. Who was she? Could she be a part of the group they had been spying on? If so, how did she find him so fast? He had taken every precaution—there should have been no trace leading back to him.
"You're good, but you left a trail," the voice continued, growing closer. "Did you really think you could slip away that easily after what you saw?"
Mikey's mind raced. He hadn't been followed during the mission. Gregor had made sure their exit was clean. This wasn't adding up.
He gripped the edge of a dumpster, feeling the cold metal press against his skin, grounding him. The alley was narrow, but there were escape routes—he could make a break for the fence at the far end or try to blend in with the night traffic if he sprinted fast enough.
But something about the voice kept him frozen in place. There was an authority to it, something deeper than just a random threat. She knew things about him, things she shouldn't have known unless she had connections he hadn't accounted for.
"You're not used to being chased, are you?" she continued, her tone shifting. "But that's the life you chose, right?"
Mikey's chest tightened. He had to act. Slowly, he edged toward the back of the alley, keeping to the shadows. The woman's footsteps stopped as if she sensed his movement. For a second, silence fell again—tense, suffocating silence.
Then, out of nowhere, a small light flickered in the woman's hand. A tiny device, barely visible, casting a dim glow. She raised it slightly, pointing it in his direction. Mikey's breath caught. Was it a tracking device? A weapon?
Before he could react, she spoke again, this time softer, almost amused. "Relax, kid. If I wanted you gone, you wouldn't have made it to this alley."
Her words sent a wave of anger through Mikey. He hated being toyed with. But he knew she was right—if this was a hit, it would have been over already. That meant she wanted something else.
"Come out," she said, her voice laced with confidence. "We need to talk."
Mikey didn't move. His mind was calculating every possibility, every angle of escape, but nothing seemed right. Who was this woman? And what did she want from him?
Against his better judgment, Mikey finally stepped forward, still keeping a safe distance between them. His eyes locked on the figure, a woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in a dark leather jacket and jeans. She didn't seem armed, but Mikey wasn't going to assume anything.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice firm but cautious.